


Tea Time

by LuxrayOnAO3



Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Comedy, Helen roasts the player characters, really just a dumb skit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxrayOnAO3/pseuds/LuxrayOnAO3
Summary: It wasn't technically a performance enhancing drug.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Tea Time

Helen had been working at the Dig Site long enough to rise to Associate level, but she’d never seen the place so busy. Ten years ago they’d had a small influx of the public, who’d heard that there was gold in the Salve, and her colleagues had made a thing of it; but now her eyes beheld  _ half a hundred _ people she had never seen before, all of them washing soil samples with a fervour that bordered on the ferocious. 

She sighed internally. If any of them were preserving archaeological materials of a value above ‘completely unusable’, she’d be surprised. Frankly, Helen’s advice about best technique at the screening station had gone completely unheeded by some of the -- to put it politely -- less attentive newcomers.

How many of these enthusiasts had even qualified at the Exam Centre before being let loose onto the facilities? There was not this level of excitement when it came to cleaning finds of Saranthium pottery. It was sad; Saranthium had been the topic of multiple of Helen’s own papers. But that was the way of things in this modern, fast-moving Sixth Age: with the Guildmaster’s mysterious disappearance and the even stranger monolith, Reiniger had coined the idea to outsource work to the litter of travelling adventurers, with the prospect of travelling the world and becoming archaeologists in their own right. Again, frankly, it was a baffling assertion, as the Guild had  _ never _ been popular except as a waypoint for those working on Celia’s project, and then, not in remotely these numbers. But credit where credit was due; it  _ had _ worked. 

Perhaps these unattentive idiots just wanted to poke the glowing stone pillar to see what happened. It was a perk of sitting here, watching over the screening station; front row seat to the parade of people going up to look at the monolith. She didn’t envy Easty; the way that the blue-and-teal energy swirled around the thing, and the way that it got  _ stronger _ when some of these idiots went up to it -- Helen was perfectly content right here, thanks very much.

Maybe the monolith would suck one of  _ them _ in, and then she could get back to her real work instead of sitting here supervising the parade of the nice but dim.

This must have been what it was like, whatever befell that city of Saranthium; all normality shattered. Living through the same thing was ironic, if nothing else. Perhaps these knuckleheads would experience the same thing in the next age, as their idyllic soil scrubber made way for -- oh, Helen didn’t know, a giant rock or something. Gods knew enough shooting stars fell to earth on a day to day basis. Maybe one would target the Archaeology Guild and the future archaeologists of Kandarin would be pulling the shattered bones of the unqualified and overzealous from the ground.

Okay, maybe getting sucked into the monolith would be better than having the Guild crushed.

A shadow fell over Helen and she jolted, for a moment half-seeing that falling meteor of certain demise, awakened from her thoughts by one of the new ‘interests’ standing in front of her. Helen sighed; they weren’t even wearing proper work gear. Whatever that… costume, was, did them no favours. Helen had never been into fashion trends. It looked horribly impractical.

“I brought you some tea,” the over-decorated figure said.

Hm. Perhaps they weren’t all idiots. Helen smiled, brightened. Sitting here bored was indeed thirsty work. 

“Thank you,” she nodded, look turning curious as she inspected the proffered cup. Her eyebrow quirked as she regarded the viscous brown sludge in the cup. What  _ was _ this? It looked nothing like her three-minute-milk usual. It looked and smelled like a thick slurry of failure and decay. Steam rose from it like spirits ascending to the afterlife.

The figure in front of her continued to hold out the white china cup, stoically offering it like some grandiose gift.

“What… what is this?” was all the beleaguered associate could manage.

“Soil tea,” the figure said. 

_ Soil  _ tea? “Did, did you put  _ screening samples _ in this? Gods, it smells atrocious!”

“Yup, good slushy pinch from each of the bins. I’ve drunk some myself. It’s actually alright. I found that it made me feel a bit smarter as an archaeologist--”

Gods and earth; Helen’s mediocre expectations had immediately shattered like so much Senntisten pottery. No wonder these folks were so bizarre in their behaviour if they were drinking literal excavation waste. It said it all. The sooner the Head of Research processed her applications through those monstrous glasses of his, the better. She needed out.

The other person’s arm did not waver as Helen mentally despaired; the offending cup of tea -- no,  _ soil tea _ \-- was a mute plea to the act of taking a sip.

“-- and well, I heard you like tea, so I thought you might try some.” This latter accompanied by the deliverer’s best attempt at looking crestfallen.

Well, Helen could pride herself that in her years working for and at the Guild she had never taken it upon herself to gulp down the dirt she dug up. But… that puppydog look--

Helen threw her hands up in antagonised defeat. “Fine! One sip!” 

The figure in front of her looked relieved, and Helen took the cup. At least it was warm, though it still smelled like hot gravel and bad decisions.

The woman let out a heavy sigh, closed her eyes, and took a tentative sip. 

She’d expected it to be bad, of course, and the silty, clay-like texture was pretty unpleasant; it was like drinking liquid toothpaste. As her tongue scraped the remnants off her gumline, she grimaced, and forced herself to swallow.

There. Now she could claim to be just as boneheaded as these advent--

Something prickled at the back of her mind, suddenly.  _ A coin? _

“Give me the rest of that,” she sighed, and winced as she took another mouthful, more this time. Her throat felt like an estuary. 

_ Saranthium coins. You haven’t thought to cross-check them against the new excavations at Everlight. You can find how much of the extant imagery is-- _

Helen’s jaw worked incoherently for a moment as she tried to form words, looking up at her smiling tea-bringer. “Uh, bluh, uh, I’m sorry, but, this stuff actually WORKS?”

“Sure does,” came their reply. “I’m pretty good at cooking, you know, so I thought--”

Helen nodded through the rest of what they had to say, mind already swirling with ideas about Saradominist culture and the early influence of the icyene, oh the papers she could write! 

“Mmm, that’s great,” she nodded. “Thank you. Uhm, could you leave the cup? And maybe make some more? And, between you and me, if you want to tell people about this invention, of yours, you know, I’m sure they’d like it too.” She tried to smile winningly, before spitting out a small piece of gravel, which kind of rather ruined the effect.

“Can do! You know, speaking of inventions, I’m rather good--”

Helen tuned out the rest as she hummed, already mentally laying out her next project. She had to concede, perhaps not all of these newcomers were idiots. 

More pressingly, did you have to reference tea in the citations of your academic papers?


End file.
